The Spire of Shadows stood silent in the heart of the world’s wound.Once, it was a fortress of obsidian stone and mortal ambition. Now it pulsed like a living thing — veins of light threading through the black walls, beating to the rhythm of a dying universe.Arcturus stood at its peak, his hands clasped around the crystalline core known as the Heart of the Echo. The artefact throbbed with light, bathing him in alternating shades of gold and violet. Each pulse sent tendrils of energy spiralling through his body — reshaping him, claiming him.His once-proud face was half-shrouded in shadow now, the flesh fracturing like glass with every heartbeat.“Soon,” he whispered to the storm raging around him. “Soon the Voice will be mine. The song will end, and I will be the silence that follows.”But the Echo’s reply came not as a voice but as sensation — cold, absolute, endless.—You misunderstand, Arcturus. You are not to master the song. You are the final note.Arcturus shuddered, clutching

The world had never been so silent. From the valley below, the Spire rose like a blade through the heavens, its peak vanishing into storm and starlight. The air trembled — a resonance that wasn’t merely sound, but a heartbeat echoing through all of Elyria. The Convergence had begun. Aria felt it first — a vibration deep in her bones, a rhythm beneath the pulse of her own magic. She staggered, clutching her staff as the earth beneath her feet began to split into fissures glowing with golden light. “Eryndor,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “He’s inside.” Zephyr steadied her, his usual calm replaced by grim focus. “Then we’d better make sure there’s still a world waiting for him when he comes out.” Above them, the sky ignited. Swirls of violet and gold collided, lightning arcing between clouds that were no longer clouds but fragments of shattered dimensions. From the rifts poured creatures — malformed echoes of the old world, drawn by the energy of the Voice. Thorne gripped his

The northern wind was sharp and clean, carrying the scent of frost and pine. For days, the companions travelled across the reborn lands — places once scarred by darkness now washed in strange light. The earth itself seemed to hum beneath their feet, faint tones rising and fading like the breath of something vast and living.Aria led the way, following the shimmer of resonance only she could sense. Sometimes, it pulsed in the air like heat; other times, it whispered faintly through stone and water. The Voice was restless — trying to find its rhythm again, its lost balance.They passed through the ruins of old cities — skeletons of towers swallowed by green vines. Statues that once praised the Spire’s glory now stood cracked and overgrown, their stone faces softened by moss. Every night, when the stars returned, the companions camped beneath their silent watch, and Aria would hum the fragments of the song she remembered from the Spire.Lyra sat sharpening her blade, the firelight dancin

The Silver Sea stretched endlessly before them, a mirror of clouds and sorrow. The waves whispered against the shore like the fading breath of a giant.The companions stood in silence, their reflections wavering in the water. Since the Spire’s destruction, days had passed — days filled with restless dreams and whispers that none could explain.Aria knelt beside the tide, her fingers brushing the surf. It’s the same tone again, she thought — that faint, pulsing rhythm beneath the waves. She looked to Lirien. “You hear it too, don’t you?”Lirien’s eyes shimmered faintly with violet light as she nodded. “It’s not mere sound. It’s resonance — the same frequency the Voice once carried through Eryndor.”Lyra’s jaw tightened. “Then he’s still alive in some form.”Zephyr crossed his arms, gazing toward the horizon. “Alive, maybe. But not reachable. Every time I try to trace that sound, it scatters — like wind through shattered glass.”Thorne turned his gaze toward the mountains to the east, w

The sea above had turned black.Not from storm or night, but from something deeper — a creeping shadow that dimmed even the glow of the Resonant Core.The companions stood at the edge of the temple ruins, the water shimmering faintly around them. The hum that once pulsed softly through Kaelor now throbbed with unease, like a heartbeat on the verge of stopping.Lirien raised her staff, tracing a rune in the water. The sigil flared, revealing a faint spiral current winding downward — a vortex of light and darkness intertwined.Aria stared into it. “That’s the path?”Lirien nodded slowly. “To the Rift. To him.”Thorne’s hand hovered near his sword. “Then we go together. There is no turning back this time.”Lyra adjusted her gauntlets, the runes on her armour flickering. “We never turned back before.”Zephyr gave a half-hearted grin. “And look where that’s gotten us — under an ocean, chasing the echo of a god.”Lirien’s expression softened. “Not a god. A friend.”Without another word, Ari